


The Tether

by missingparentheses



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Shot, Rhett POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8401354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingparentheses/pseuds/missingparentheses
Summary: Through the changes, Rhett has one tether to the earth.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyCynthiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCynthiana/gifts).



It’s the one thing that tethers me back to earth. Always in the swirl of elation or terror, the dizzying cacophony of what-are-we-doing and how-is-this-happening, my eyes dart out for their tether and find it there waiting. It's the endless sea of clear blue, the wide sureness of soft, pink joy stretched over a bright and boyish laughter only just restrained. The world spins like crazy mad wonder around us and I'm rooted to the earth; I know I can still be Rhett, still be the soul I was born with because my soul’s anchor holds.

***

It's twelve feet down into what felt so much further. The drip, drip, drip that echoes off the walls, siphoning the sticky heat from the air and spreading it like too much paint on cold concrete. The light from the hatch fades as we creep, and I feel the long fingers, the soft pads of them dancing across the blade of my hand, undecided.

“What’re ya doin?”

The fingers leap away. “Nothin.”

“You scared of the dark, Link?”

“No!” His voice echoes angry down the tunnel ahead. “I ain't afraid of the dark.” His voice quiets, our feet slapping wetly against the dirt in rhythm and I can hear his brain turning; in my mind I see his mouth twisting in indecision. “I'm just afraid of what's _in_ the dark, y’know?”

“That's the same thing, buddyroll.”

“Shut up.”

A splash up ahead twists a shriek from Link’s throat and his fingers are in mine, no longer hesitant. We run, tripping and breathless back the way we came, barreling like stampeding cattle to the salvation of the rusty ladder. When the daylight wraps around us our lungs explode, breath heaving and barking with laughter, the terror a game we left down the hatch. I feel his fingers in mine still and when I turn I see the tether, the sparkle of blue irises and the flash of eager teeth. There's no guile in his joy, no fear in his love, and we laugh at the darkness.

***

It's a joke played on those who think I'm the tough one. They think height and baritone and beard make a man, and I wear it all well in a three-piece suit made special for these too-long limbs. There have been interviews and handshakes and shrimp cocktail and every other cocktail you could dream of, and I know we're only just internetainers but I could get used to this. He carries his grace in a perfect package and in the crowd I feel warm fingertips brush the blade of my hand, just for a moment, but it might be more for my sake than his. He's not fooled by height or the beard; he knew me when I still needed a boost to steal from the cookie jar.

When they call our names like we own the place we stride into the hot lights to the tune of applause. I see the dim outlines of faces and the rumble of laughter, his joke a gift to them. This isn't our first time.

In the crush outside I'm handed a notebook and pen with requests for an autograph, a phone for a selfie, a gleeful side-hug, and I almost forget. I almost think it's owed to me, that we built this empire and by God we deserve it. And when I feel it I feel the crush of it, the heaviness of both being known and being unknown, being something I'm not. I keep that smile fastened tightly to my face and try to maintain my grip on Rhett McLaughlin, the boy, the man, the person. The crowd and the lights and the crush and I'm drowning in the sea until I look up, and of course he already met me there. I see his eyes in the sea like a beacon and I hold to them, his grin like boyish wonder. _Can you believe it?_ his eyes ask me. _Can you believe all this is real?_ his smile marvels.

***

It's the quietest thing, the opposite of accolade. It's the first chirp of morning out the window. The mountaintop getaway is still shrouded in fog, my eyes still shrouded in sleep. I register my other senses, taking stock before I stir, a mental roll call of limbs and faculties. Ten toes wiggling, two knees pressed into warm sheets, long back exposed to the whisper of the ceiling fan that inspires a chill as I acknowledge its presence.

Images creep in, dragging across the goosebumps rising on the flesh of my back and making the hair on my arms rise, and I remember. He’s a man now, and so am I, and we have been for so long but I almost forget sometimes. It startled me, and startles me again as I allow the waves of memory to crash over my consciousness, the way man became _man_ and men became _men_ , the way we gave over to it after all this time. His skin felt just like I’d always imagined it, but the way he tasted was less like peanut butter and peppermint and more like musk and need and the salt of desire, less like _friend_ and _brother_ and more like _lover_. I feel the tremor run through me as I realize I’ve found something new about someone I’d already known completely. How bottomless are his depths if there’s still more to discover? How deep and how far will I fall as I disappear into him?

It terrifies me and slowly I pull my knees up, up to my chest where I can be as small and compact as a man my size can be, and I rail against the lostness. I rail against the endless abyss of the familiar blue of Link’s eyes disappearing into heat and blackness, the music of his laughter swallowed up into gasps and groans.

The pad of his big toe trails up the length of my calf and I flinch, my eyes opening for the first time. Possibly the first time ever. He is _man_ , long and rich with beauty carved like marble, and God help me, I want him still.

What are we doing?  
How is this happening?

Under a flop of dark hair his eye cracks open and I see it, the breath rushing out of me in a gasp. He rolls away just enough to look at me straight without his face buried into the pillow, and I find him again. It's the endless sea of clear blue, the wide sureness of soft, pink joy stretched over a bright and boyish laughter only just restrained. The world spins like crazy mad wonder around us and I'm rooted to the earth.

“Mornin’, Rhett,” Link yawns.

“Mornin’, buddyroll.”

It’s the man and the boy, the elation and the terror, and the bottomless depths that threaten to swallow me whole. I’m not afraid of the dark; I’m just afraid of what’s _in_ the dark. But I know no matter what I find, he’ll keep me tethered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for kudos-ing, commenting, and subscribing!  
> You know what time it is!


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